


feels like tragedy's at hand

by otatop



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nightmare Before Christmas Fusion, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Revenge, but festive!, but make it fluffy?, sally!neil, werewolf!Andrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otatop/pseuds/otatop
Summary: Neil makes an attempt, Andrew learns a skill, the moon is adick, and Christmas isn't ruined after all (shutUP Kevin)
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 6
Kudos: 140
Collections: AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2020





	feels like tragedy's at hand

**Author's Note:**

> Here is my submission for AFTG 2020 RBB! Take a look at this wicked cool art done by [kittyfeathersflying](https://kittyfeathersflying.tumblr.com/post/614131273088270336/wulfrann-imperfectcourt-this-is-my-art-for-this) as well as the other fic for this prompt [ Whispers in the leaves, shadows in the moonlit night ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23330302)
> 
> Neil's mother is referenced as "Arachne" who is a figure in Greek mythology, a skilled weaver who is turned into a spider. I also take a bunch of liberties with other bits of tnbc lore because... because I wanna :x 
> 
> The "Body Horror" tag is in reference to Neil being Sally. Please see the end notes for a more in-depth description and for a brief description for the use of the "Gore" tag.

Andrew narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t a  _ bad _ thing to see his brother hanging around with Neil but it  _ was _ suspicious. They ran with very different crowds and, well, they were both rather unlikable assholes. Maybe, he considered as he walked over, their personalities cancelled each other out so that they got along. 

The very idea made a shiver run down his spine that would make even Kevin jealous. 

Too spooky.

“That looks like shit,” he heard Neil say when he was close enough. 

“ _ You _ look like shit,” Aaron retorted. 

What a relief.

Andrew ducked under Aaron's umbrella and peered over their shoulders to look at what they were fiddling with. Bits of cloth and all colors of string made a mess between them on the fountain ledge. On a piece of paper was a colorful drawing of a delighted teddy bear in a Santa hat. Andrew leaned further to see the cloth in Aaron’s hands and admired the realistic grizzly with a cartoonish hat. 

“Katelyn said she wanted a stocking with a bear on it. That’s what this is!”

“A  _ teddy _ bear. Did you even use the reference picture?”

“Why would I use  _ that _ ? It doesn’t even look like a bear. She’ll like this way better.”

Andrew noted the snarl and claws that were marked yet unfinished on Aaron’s big sock. “Good,” he said. He got almost as much entertainment picturing Katelyn’s pained face as he did when the two of them startled. Aaron’s face flashed to its usual distaste before smoothing into surprise as he registered Andrew’s compliment. One fang glinted over his lip in that way that said he was almost smiling. 

“I  _ told _ you it was good,” he said to Neil as he started packing up his materials. 

“A perfectly shaped shit is still shit,” Neil said. Aaron flipped him off. 

“Whatever, we’re done here. I’m gonna go find someone for lunch.”

Andrew wasn’t insulted when his brother left without more than a shoulder bump. He slipped easily into the abandoned seat, one leg bent up onto the ledge and the other dangling over the side. Neil continued on as if nothing had happened, sketching an animal onto a piece of cloth with a pencil. Andrew waited in silence for an explanation. He didn’t have to wait long.

“We made a trade,” Neil said, indicating to a small vial with his elbow. Andrew picked it up and uncorked it. The smell was strong enough that he didn’t need to lift it to smell the nightshade. Aaron was a great chemist; there was no doubt of its potency. 

“Finally growing a backbone?” he asked- rather unfairly. For all his soft exterior, Neil was the stubbornest creature in Halloween Town. 

“Finally found a viable solution,” Neil corrected. That he didn’t rise to the snark was tell enough of his good mood. Andrew chose not to bring it down by reminding Neil of the last time his escape had come up in conversation. He was all for this approach. 

“When.”

Neil paused his drawing and fiddled with some orange string and a needle. He took his time to place the first stitches as he considered his answer. “Soon. By Christmas. Maybe Wednesday?” He said it like a question, like Andrew had any say in the matter. 

Andrew had nothing to do with this, so he took Wednesday as the answer. Murdering his father on a major holiday. How fitting.

They sat in silence for a while, Neil making careful stitches and Andrew watching. It wasn’t interesting, yet it was more entertaining than the clamor of town square. After a while, Neil reached for his small scissors and knocked his hoop and materials all askew. 

“ _ Dammit _ !” he cursed, holding up his right hand where he had accidentally sewed the fox to one finger. 

“ _ How _ did you not realize you were stabbing yourself. Didn’t it hurt?” Andrew asked. He watched Neil attempt to work his scissors left handed before he clucked his tongue and snatched them away. 

“It’s not the sewing that hurts-  _ careful! _ \- not the- just get-”

“Shut up before I miss.” Andrew growled. He brought Neil’s hand close to his face so he could make sure to only snip the orange thread. Neil sucked a breath in through his teeth as the string was pulled free and flapped his hand about like he could shake the pain out. 

Andrew watched Neil glare at his own finger and felt compelled to say “You’re an idiot,” in case nobody had reminded him today. He kept the hoop and took up the needle for something to do that was slightly less boring than nothing. 

“I’m literally  _ made  _ out of cloth and stitches. I wouldn’t be able to fix myself up half as well if it hurt to do it.” 

“And how is a thread going in different from a thread coming out?” He saw Neil shrug and contemplate his elbow seam in his periphery. 

“Dunno… I think mom said something about them becoming a part of me? If I need patching. I guess... I dunno.” 

When recalling the best Halloweens, many citizens would loudly recount the harrowing murder of Mary Arachne at the hands of the Butcher. Mary had famously created Neil, driven by her nature and inspired by a passing PhD dropout with a god complex. The Butcher, too, had been driven by nature they say. What a terrifying night that had been. 

Neil’s silence on it didn’t escape Andrew. Nor did his hesitancy to commit to her intentions when their relationship after his animation had been so short lived.

“Makes sense,” Andrew offered in a rare show of paltry comfort. Neil froze, stared, but Andrew kept his eyes on the needle. “With your track record, all of you will eventually need mending. How else would you remain Neil?” 

“Mm…”

Andrew remained focused on his task until the air around them felt less somber. He tossed the hoop and unfinished fox into Neil’s lap. 

“This is terrible,” Neil said, grinning. “And not in a  _ causing _ terror way. In a ‘this is really bad’ way.” 

“I don’t care.” He didn’t.

“Here.” Neil shuffled around his mess and handed Andrew a new hoop and a spool of orange thread. “Practice.” 

“Why should I?”

Neil shrugged. “Make me something. Give it to me on Wednesday.”

“Why should I?” Andrew repeated. 

“To celebrate. Meet me on the hill.” 

The only thing terrifying about Town Hall was how boring it was. Andrew was sure his heart would stop if Kevin opened his bony mouth to complain one more time. 

“It  _ can’t _ be like last year, Andrew. If the citizens really want this, we have to lean into the scare and keep it local or-” 

Blah blah blah. If there was something Andrew cared less about than the holidays it was the citizens and their naive ideals. He’d had bigger things to worry about last Christmas, namely saving Neil’s ass and getting Kevin to stop being such a coward. Decoration had little to do with Riko’s attempted coup. Christmas had just been a means for him, an excuse. The entire town could have donned bunny ears and hidden eggs for all it would have changed the purpose of a boogie man. 

“Are you even listening?” Kevin griped. 

“No,” Andrew said honestly. He looked up from his stitching to give Kevin an unimpressed stare. Kevin was pointing at blueprints behind him, what looked like a furious Jack-o-Lantern lit from within by multi-colored lights and a pine tree decorated with red and green bugs and candy-striped snakes. He didn’t have the energy to sneer with the vehemence the plans deserved but he did let his fangs show behind a pulled lip. 

“You want a second Halloween,” he accused. 

“Yes!” Kevin crowed, fingers clacking against his skull as he grabbed his head in relief. “With a Christmas motif.” 

“I don’t see why you’re trying to drag me into this. You’re the citizens’ most  _ beloved _ celebrity.” Andrew went back to work with his needle. He wouldn’t tell a soul, but this was his third attempt at stitching out a fox. After two failed attempts to make one appropriately rabid, he gave in to his desire to mock and made this one  _ cute _ . Bubbly cheeks, fat ears, wide eyes.  _ This _ was truly scary…

“If you’d- ugh. Christmas is too  _ nice _ . I need to make nice  _ scary _ without it being like last year. Put the nice around the scariest instead of trying to change the nice  _ into _ scary. You’re the scariest citizen in Halloween world-” 

Andrew rolled his eyes and scoffed. Kevin barrelled on. 

“-if you put in the  _ effort _ . We could give the citizens the Christmas they want without giving up on what really matters.”

“Yes, keeping our traditions  _ really _ matters to you,  _ Pumpkin King _ . I get it. This doesn’t have anything to do with a recreant people-pleaser who has a crush on a citizen of Christmas world. Oh no, where would we be if things were  _ too _ this and  _ too _ that.”

If Kevin could flush, he probably would have, either at the mention of  _ Jeremy _ or the accusation. As it was, he about-faced back to his blueprints and began muttering to himself. 

“Too bad I can’t get Neil in on this…” 

Andrew hated how easily he was bated back into conversation. “Gonna dress the rag-doll up? Stuff him with peppermint scented pine needles?”

“Don’t be a dick. You know he has the best ideas for Halloween celebrations. He was the only reason last Christmas turned out as appropriately horrible as it did.” The only reason Kevin held the title Pumpkin King, Andrew thought uncharitably. “I wonder if he still has that Sandy Claws suit somewhere…”

“Stop.” 

Miraculously, he did, turning back to Andrew with a shuttered expression. Andrew took a single calming breath to rid his voice of a growl and his mouth of fangs. 

“You will not ask him about last Christmas.” 

“I won’t ask him about what happened, just if he still has-” 

“No.” 

The claws around his needle grew into his palm. For all that Neil was  _ fine _ with the town celebrating Christmas this year, last year was avoided to the point of repression. Andrew thought of Neil down in the gutters of the Nest, rented out by the Butcher and forced to help Riko- forced to cut and sew and hem together the stolen red suit. He didn’t talk about his time there or the week he spent locked away in the tower after the suit had engulfed Riko and allowed Kevin and Andrew to finish the job. 

“I won't  _ put it on _ -” 

How any one person could be so self absorbed…

“It’s already Christmas Eve and there’s  _ nothing _ to show for it. At this rate, tomorrow is just going to be a regular Thursday.” 

And what a shame that would be. Andrew went back to his ugly fox, one ear open to Kevin’s muttering for any hints that he might actually be stupid enough to ask Neil about the suit. 

It was sunset when Andrew left Town Hall. He would be lying if he said he was only eager to leave because of Kevin’s exasperating fixation on making tomorrow perfect. There were other reasons. A reason. 

It was Wednesday.

“ _ Kevin always did say he had potential _ ,” Someone whispered as Andrew walked through town square. A group was huddled around a bare, wonky shaped pine tree that had been erected next to the fountain. Everyone was eager for the well-kept surprise of the Christmas celebration, unaware that it was only a secret because Kevin was so indecisive. 

“I never knew he could be  _ that _ scary, though!” said another. “He never comes to the Halloween celebrations!”

“I bet he always stayed away because of the pressure. I mean, when your father is the Butcher, there’s a lot to live up to. How embarrassing would it be…” A few voices chirped up in agreement but Andrew stilled. He paused at a table of garish gift wraps, pretending to contemplate one for purchase as he listened in. 

“Yeah, well, I wish he’d done it for Halloween. He’s not showing all that much Christmas spirit,” one ghoul grumbled. 

“How would  _ you _ know what Christmas spirit is?” Someone snarled. “He saved Christmas last year in the ghastliest way! And this year- it must be tradition!” 

Andrew’s ear twitched upon hearing that comparison. Had Neil actually done it? Had he poisoned the Butcher? Something swelled within him, feelings amplified, emotions pulled to the surface with the rising full moon. He didn’t bother identifying it but he did grab a tacky piece of tissue paper from the table to wrap around his folded piece of cloth. It was bright green with little snowmen- obviously brought over from Christmas world by some supportive do-gooder. Neil would hate it. 

“If it was  _ really _ for tradition, the Butcher would have done it on Halloween just like his mother. What a waste…” 

Andrew… stopped. He considered the flimsy gift in his hands, blunt nails and pink skin. He aggressively did not feel the effects of the moon any longer and looked up. 

The face, forever stuck as a shadow on the moon, was grinning in satisfaction on the eve of the anniversary of his death. 

Andrew very strongly did not feel anything. 

He left town square at a steady pace, stopping only at the crunch and sweet smell of scattered leaves under his feet. 

Andrew very strongly did not feel anything. 

He followed the trail of leaves through the streets and out of town, knowing where they would lead and not thinking of what he might find when he got there. 

Only, he hadn’t quite made it there before the finding began. He heard the scrape and thump first. He smelled the sweet decay second. He followed his senses down the path to the cemetery, to the gate. At first, he wasn’t sure what he was seeing, unable to make sense of it all. Sir was there, phasing back and forth through the black bars of the gate and meowing piteously at King who was swatting at the wriggling mass on the ground. 

A leg. Andrew stopped to stare at it and very strongly did not feel anything when he picked it up. 

The hill overlooking the cemetery was their spot, if Andrew were to ever admit to anything so ridiculous sounding. It was where he and Neil went to be alone together. Where they went to talk and be silent and to just  _ be _ . It was where they had fought so viciously about getting Neil  _ away _ . It was where Neil wanted to meet after poisoning the Butcher one more time. A final time. 

It was where Neil was slumped against a rotting tree, stuffing dead leaves back into a whole in his side. 

The sight itself wasn’t anything new but there was something awkward about the movements. The angles were all wrong, the motions jerky and off center. Before Andrew reached him, Neil dropped his arm and gave up, curling in on himself. Curling out on himself. Twisting sideways and forward and backward all at once. 

Andrew looked down at the leg in his hands. It wasn’t the first time he’d found a limb off causing trouble so he hadn’t actually paid it much mind but now… the foot was all wrong. Backwards. 

Andrew dropped heavily onto the ground in front of Neil and hated him. He hated the mess of his red hair. He hated the empty shoulder socket with leaves spilling out. He hated the zig zag of joints. He hated the silence and the lips sewn shut. They stared at each other for a long moment, Neil as resigned and furious as their last argument and Andrew giving nothing away. He reached into Neil’s pocket for the small kit he always kept on him, only to find the needle snapped and the scissors ripped in half. 

The silence was not unusual for their time spent together but this time it felt different. Wrong. It was not the choice of companionable quiet and Andrew needed to fix that before anything else. He guided Neil forward with an open palm on the side of his cheek, leading until his head was pillowed in the crook of Andrew’s elbow. He bowed his head, blocking Neil’s vision from the mocking face of the full moon and ignoring its pull over him. This close, he extended a single claw and sliced through the black thread, slow and careful not to catch on his lips. 

Neil, always moving or fidgeting in some way, was unnaturally still until the last stitch was popped when he took in a heaving breath, letting it out in a shaky sigh with closed eyes. Neither made to move him up or away. Andrew kept his arm curled around his neck, hand over his chest as he pulled each thread fragment free. Neil didn’t so much as twitch even though Andrew knew that this part hurt. When it was finished, Neil opened his eyes but still did not move. Andrew allowed it. Allowed Neil to twist his head until it was more comfortable. Allowed Neil to relax his body against him. Allowed Neil to lift his hand up clumsily with his own backward hand. Allowed Neil to tug at his claw. 

“Awful lot of effort you’re putting into control for someone who doesn’t care either way.”

Andrew didn’t tell him off for focusing on the wrong thing. It was just a relief to hear his voice. Even if it was slightly misguided in its assumptions. 

It would have made more sense to fix Neil’s arms and hands so that he could fix his own legs, but Andrew knew how Neil felt about his legs and didn’t ask before getting to work. First, he fixed the foot of the leg he’d found earlier, snipping and pulling the black string with more care than he was willing to admit he was capable of. He used the horrible orange thread and the needle he’d been using for his fox picture. Neil didn’t seem to mind, even smiling a little as he rolled up his pant leg to allow Andrew to reattach his limb at mid thigh. The other leg was next- foot, knee, thigh. When he was done, Andrew didn’t roll down the pant legs just yet. Instead, he cupped his hands around Neil’s bare calves, slid them down to his ankles and then back up until his thumbs could rub at the sides of his knees. The touch was a comfort to them both- for Andrew to feel that Neil was almost whole again and for Neil to feel that his safety was returning to him. 

There was a question that he wanted to ask but couldn’t. Not yet. A question that he had asked once before and would again despite how it had gone the last time. He looked at Neil expectantly, instead, and readied the needle. 

“So I guess it wasn’t such a viable solution…” Neil said lamely. Andrew didn’t respond. He took up Neil’s fallen arm and began to work fixing the fingers. “It wasn’t Aaron's fault- he gave me good stuff. Maybe I was too obvious. Too excited. But… he knew. Before I had even put it in his dinner. He knew what I was going to do…” 

Andrew cut the needle free from the last stitch on Neil’s pinky and pretended not to care when the fingers traced over his own in thanks. He snipped at the black string of his elbow, pulling it out inch by inch. Neil flinched for the first time when he got to the soft inner part. Andrew placed his thumb over the sensitive skin as he pulled, feeling the traction of it and gritting his teeth. 

“He doesn’t know I’m gone,” Neil admitted quietly. “I jumped.” Andrew raised a disbelieving eyebrow, looking up from his careful work. Neil gave a resigned roll of his eyes. “I fell with purpose. I couldn’t… I couldn’t get my arms to cooperate in the same directions to climb the tree so I used that one to dangle myself out the window.” 

“And the leg?” Andrew prompted.

“Guess one arm length didn’t make all that much difference from that height. I hope it wasn’t too obvious catching up.”

Andrew didn’t mention the gossiping townsfolk or the trail of leaves. It wouldn’t make any difference. He finished sewing Neil’s elbow and let his touch linger. Still, he did not ask the question burning at the back of his throat. Not when Neil still needed help. 

Attaching at the shoulder was next. Neil awkwardly held in some of the fallen leaves as Andrew pressed the seam together and pulled the first stitch through. It took more effort to avoid Neil’s fingers than it did to get the seam straight, his palm facing outward so that his mangled fingers could curl in. But something else was wrong with it. It had a smell that Andrew had noticed before but hadn’t been able to pinpoint- charred. Campfire. Burned. He stopped half way through reattaching Neil’s shoulder so he could grab the hand and flip it over to see the knuckles. 

A black hole overtook where there used to be soft cloth. Inches of Neil’s hand had been burned away, the edges black and rough and the leaves underneath brittle and flaking. It struck Andrew, then, how easy it would be for Neil to disappear without a trace. How close that had been to happening. His own flames of anger burned through his veins to his claws to his eyes to his fangs. He salivated at the racing thoughts of ripping flesh. 

The shadow on the moon mocked without a sound, mouth stretched out into a vicious grin. 

Hands at the side of his face distracted Andrew from the pull of the full moon, weak and uncoordinated and not touching. Blinders. He focused back on Neil’s face in front of him and took a single calming breath. 

He asked the question that he shouldn't ask yet. “Come home with me.” It comes out flat and unobstructed by fangs. 

As expected, Neil dropped his hands. Less expected, he didn’t look immediately angry. Andrew could vividly recall the fury with which he’d faced this argument before. They’d both said things that would have been better off unsaid, things that only bordered on the truth without revealing all of it. Neil’s vicious words had done little to defend his stubbornness and Andrew had been left hollow and sour and no closer to understanding. He hadn’t asked again in the face of a clear “No,” but he hadn’t bothered to hide his disdain. 

But that was then and this is now. Then, Neil had been electric and full of fight. Now, Neil was in literal pieces. 

“Let’s not argue yet,” Neil said in a flat voice. So it would still be an argument. Neil picked up the dangling needle with his disfigured hand and barely got one stitch in before Andrew took back over. His muscles were tight, every part of him clenched to prevent himself from pinching or pulling too roughly. He ignored the tremble of Neil’s body as he stitched his armpit back together. He pretended not to notice the way he stretched his arm and sighed in relief when the needle was cut free. He looked away, re-threading, instead of watching Neil watch him. 

Andrew took Neil’s right hand into his own, the last part of him that needed to be fixed. It was harder now than it had been before to extend only one claw instead of all of them. But he managed. He clipped the uneven black hem of each knuckle and pinched every last tidbit free. Neil didn’t react to any of it, expression calm in the face of hurt and in the memories of its cause. Andrew wanted him to emote. Wanted him to get angry and reactive like last time. Wanted him to condemn the Butcher and come home with him. Anything besides this impassive mask. 

By the last finger, Andrew felt that he had finally gotten the hang of limb reattachment. Perfect timing. The gaping hole on the back of Neil’s hand was another story. It caused Neil some concern as well, if his hesitance was anything to go by. He plucked at his own shirt and then his pants with dissatisfaction. 

“I need to find something halfway decent to patch this with,” he said with a deep, annoyed sigh. 

Andrew knew where this was going and felt conflicted. To do so… to mark Neil so obviously was personal. Intimate. It was an option that should be a choice, presented in a situation that offered very little of that luxury. It was also ugly. It was cute. It was soft to the point of disgusting. The idea was truly, truly terrifying and in the end, that was why Andrew reached for his abandoned present and dropped it into Neil’s lap. 

Neil tilted his head as he picked up the small, floppy parcel. One finger traced over a smiling snowman. “What’s this?” He asked. It was a stupid question with an obvious answer so Andrew didn’t say anything. Neil ripped right through the center of the tissue paper and unfolded the cloth within. The reaction was immediate, his jaw dropping open and his fingers tracing along the edges of the stylized fox face. Then he brought it up close to his face, nearly going cross-eyed as he inspected Andrew's work. 

“You made this,” he accused. “Andrew, this is so much better than before. This is  _ good _ . Why does it look like  _ that _ ?” He prodded at one of the fox’s chubby cheeks. 

“Fostering your budding love of Christmas,” Andrew said instead of admitting how many attempts he had made at a more ferocious face. Neil only nudged him with his elbow for the bad lie, too engrossed with inspecting the present. 

Andrew was surprised and also not- disgusted and also not- when Neil tucked the edges of the fox cloth under the charred edges of the hole in his hand. He took up the orange thread and didn’t comment on how much of it was missing, threaded the needle, and- was stopped. 

Andrew took the needle back, intimately familiar by now with the feel of it, the tension and give of it as he sewed. It was only right that he finished what he started, and so Andrew stitched his gross fox creation into Neil’s body. Neil’s stare was a heavy weight, not on their hands but on Andrew’s face. 

“Staring,” Andrew said bluntly. He could see Neil’s smile from the corner of his eye and didn’t comment on it. 

“Guess I am,” Neil said, completely unashamed.

There was no discernible difference in the cloth when the thread was knotted and cut. No visible magic that made it  _ Neil _ . It looked as if it had always been there, like it belonged. Andrew traced it with both of his thumbs, smoothing everything and brushing away any last blackened flakes. It was Neil’s hand. It had always been Neil’s hand and it would always be Neil’s but it was Andrew’s hand now, too. 

“Come home with me,” he said again because he had to. Again, Neil did not flash to his usual visceral anger. Andrew understood it for what it was now. Not calm. Resignation. 

“It’s better if I go back tonight. Leaving will just make him angrier with me when he gets me back.” 

“Only if he gets you back,” Andrew said. Neil made a confused face, like he didn’t understand the words. He tilted his head and so Andrew elaborated. “Do not ever go back. Stay with me.” 

“And what. Never leave the house without a chaperon? Without  _ permission _ ? Is that really so much different from my life now?” 

Andrew squeezed Neil’s hand, angry that the two situations were even comparable in Neil’s head. He opened his mouth to argue, but did not get the chance as Neil barrelled on, some fire coming back into his features at last. “So you won’t hurt me. Yea, okay, sure that would be really great. But I’ll still be afraid every day.” 

“I’ll protect you,” Andrew said, words gritted through a mouthful of fangs. 

“Forever?” Neil asked. His free hand came up to cover both of Andrew’s over the fox and Andrew squeezed again.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.” 

“I won’t give up one prison for another, no matter how much better it would be. At least if I stay close I can try again. Get more poison-” 

“Because that worked out so well for you.” 

“I  _ know _ ,” Neil snapped, finally looking as angry and frustrated as Andrew felt. “I  _ know _ , Andrew. But I’m not going to give up trying and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder.” 

Andrew freed one of his hands to push Neil’s face away, overwhelmed by the passion in his voice and his sheer stupidity. 

“Don’t come crying to me the next time you need to be reassembled.” 

Neil grabbed the hand from his face and held it the same way Andrew had his own, two thumbs smoothing over his knuckles. “But you’ve gotten so good at it.”

It was acquiescence from the both of them- ceding for the moment. Neil was too stubborn and too stupid for his own good and Andrew wasn’t about to force or beg him out of his bad decisions. 

They ended, somehow, leaning against the tree overlooking the cemetery. Roots dug painfully into Andrew’s back but he didn’t move lest he dislodge the careful line of contact between his and Neil’s shoulders. 

“Does Kevin really think he can make Christmas scary without it being like last year?” Neil asked as he idly knocked his feet back and forth, teasing King and Sir with his rhythmically wagging toes. 

“Of course he doesn't think he can. But he will do it anyway.”  _ Sounds familiar _ , Andrew thought wryly. “He seems to think putting them directly next to each other will be any different than bastardizing them both.” 

Neil made a considering face. “I guess I can see how that wouldn’t  _ ruin _ our holiday but I still don’t think it’s really going to go all that well. Especially if citizens from Christmas world are going to come. They don’t understand how great scary is.” 

Andrew thought of Katelyn receiving Aaron’s horrible bear stocking and almost smirked. Maybe it  _ would _ be fun. If just for him.

“What does Wymack think of all this?” 

“I haven’t seen that two faced Mayor around. Probably sick from all the Pumpkin King’s drivel.” 

Neil hummed noncommittally. A few quiet moments passed, the moon rising higher and the wind picking up. The shadows of the cemetery were long and blue, shivering every so often from some unseen spook.

It was nice. 

“Are you going to do anything for the celebration?” 

_ Not _ .

Andrew gave Neil a dead look. “Why would I do that.” 

“You’re the scariest thing in town if you try. You’d be a perfect balance for all of the… the…  _ cheer _ .” He gave an exaggerated shudder. Andrew pretended that the compliment meant nothing to him. (It didn’t. Even coming from Neil.)

“What would you trade me if I did?” 

“Nothing,” Neil said breezily. “Actually, though, what do you want for Christmas?” He asked it like exchanging presents was entirely normal. Like Christmas wasn’t  _ tomorrow _ . 

“Nothing.”

Neil smirked but charitably didn’t comment. “I’ll save you some sweets, then.” 

“And you?” For all that Neil constantly teased his control, the words slipped out before he could stop them. Neil gave him a questioning look. His eyes slipped for just a second to the discarded tissue paper and then very pointedly did  _ not _ look at the tissue paper. He lifted his fox hand to Andrew’s face, slow enough that Andrew could pull away if he wanted (he didn’t want). He cupped Andrew’s jaw, thumb sliding down over his mouth and then back up, catching on his lip until Andrew’s blunt teeth were visible. 

“I want to see you lose control.” 

It shouldn’t have meant anything. It shouldn’t have sent a hot shiver down his spine or raised the hairs on his arms. It was stupid and reckless, just like Neil.

“Go away.”

Neil let his arm drop but he didn’t look offended or even surprised. He stood and pocketed the spare needle after he stretched out his limbs. 

“Not gonna make sure I make it home safe and sound?”

“That’s an oxymoron for you.” 

Neil shrugged and didn’t argue, tugging on a clump of Andrew’s hair as he followed the path out of the cemetery. 

Andrew stared blankly up at the face in the moon and flipped it off. 

The town center was just as boring when it was empty as it was when it was bustling with monsters and frights. Andrew strolled in after a meandering loop of the cobblestone streets, stopping by doors and windows and listening for signs of life inside. Aaron was, puttering about his apartment and grumbling about Christmas being inconvenient for nocturnal creatures to a yawning Katelyn. Nicky was snoring away, probably under the bed where Erik slept (surprisingly easily for someone from Christmas world). Even Kevin had finally retired. Huh. Andrew had expected him to stay up all night finishing preparations for the morning. Maybe he had realized how ridiculous the whole thing was. Maybe he hoped that Sandy Claws would show up if he was a good little skeleton all tucked up into bed. Pathetic.

As he looped through the square, Andrew had to admit he was a little… disappointed with the decorations. If Christmas morning was going to be a disaster it should be a  _ massive _ disaster. What fun was a fizzle when there could be a bang? But the tree was barely decorated and the pumpkin head at its top was mediocre at best. The strings of lights all about were dark. There was a stack of presents piled precariously on the shut off fountain - a mix of bright cheerful paper and dark sticky wrappings. How boring.

The next stop on Andrew's stroll took him past the Mayor's house, a decrepit looking building with a wrought iron fence and dried dead grass. Andrew would be the last to admit that it was the second place in town he felt most at home. He had spent many a night on Wymack's lumpy couch, griping about the dimwits surrounding him and drinking until belligerent. One of those very nights had been when Andrew had discovered what expression  _ really _ laid behind the angry mask over his second face. At one point he would have guessed tired. Angry and tired were exactly the two expressions Wymack should have. 

What luck, that Andrew could lord over their beloved Mayor that his second face was actually  _ smiling _ .

The house was as silent as the others, but Andrew knew that would not last much longer; Wymack rose at an ungodly hour to walk about town so he needed to get a move on to his last stop of the night.

The tower on the edge of town was a large metal silo held together with rusted bulk nails and a prayer. At the top was a single round window, dark. If Andrew listened he could hear the soft puffs of Neil's sleeping breaths. Good. Outside of the window, a leafless, gnarled tree creaked in the breeze and scratched at the metal in a lullaby like nails on a chalkboard. A few brown leaves twisted about its roots, no doubt from Neil's earlier venture of  _ falling with purpose _ .

The reminder brought Andrew back to himself, to his intent. Down the path from the silo was a dilapidated barn, door open and the soft yellow glow illuminating the field. Gray shadows stretched down the dead crop rows, long and exaggerated. A reclining figure in a chair, sharpening a cleaver that reflected white flashes. A woman pacing between hanging chains and hooks, hands dancing over the giant carcass of a dead spider suspended there. The shadows were flat and expressionless but Andrew could practically smell the grins on their faces.

The moon had begun its slow descent toward the horizon, its face still smiling wickedly. Andrew sometimes wished he could free Riko from the prison to kill him properly. A night of thinking had planted the idea that being trapped in the moon didn't completely stop the Raven King from meddling. It was the only explanation for Neil's plan being found out so quickly. It meant that no plan would be successful. It meant that Neil would never know freedom. It meant that Andrew had a busy night ahead of him. His proposition might have been turned down, but he had told Neil that he would protect him. He didn't need a deal to be true by those words. 

Halloween world was boring. Life was boring. Scary was boring. Being a werewolf was boring. Andrew spent all of his time untransformed, unmotivated, and unwilling to provoke a righteous speech from Kevin. He didn't participate in the Halloween celebrations because they were boring.

That didn't mean his nature was without its perks. Contrary to what everyone in town seemed to believe, he was not at all controlled by the phases of the moon. No one or thing had control over him. All that the full moon did was make him more - more powerful, more bloodthirsty, more eager. It made him feel  _ good _ . Andrew let anticipation and adrenaline come to the forefront. His veins shivered with want as his hands stayed still, his steps steady, and his face impassive. The hairs on his arms, at the back of his neck, down his legs stood at attention.

The Butcher and his witch were not surprised by his presence when he stepped into the light of the barn door. Riko's tattling did nothing to stop Andrew's plan; all their expectations did was give them a false sense of security. Lola twirled on a chain cackling.

"You've kept us waiting, puppy," she singsonged. "I was about to go drag Nathaniel from bed to hurry you along. The poor thing is  _ exhausted _ after his busy day but I'm sure he'd still make the prettiest sounds." She grabbed two of the spider's legs and danced around. Andrew didn't have to wonder who the spider was. That Mary Arachne's body was kept was no secret to the town. The sight of her, spinning disgracefully yards from where Neil slept every night, only added to the moon's effects.

Andrew was  _ angry _ and it felt  _ good _ .

The Butcher didn't stand for him, wrongly assuming that Andrew would consider it a slight or care. He just kept sharpening his cleaver. A grin began to split his face.

"This town has a pest problem," he said. Andrew silently agreed, heart pounding in a vicious excitement that his face didn't give away. "A meddling dog and his blood sucking brother. Filling that boy's head with ideas."

The mention of Aaron fueled Andrew all the more, urging him to fully,  _ finally _ give in to the drug of the moon. When Andrew smiled it was wide and manic and joyless and full of fangs. The rush felt like a  _ scream-  _ it shot from his glowing eyes, down to his claws, and back again, building in his lungs as a laugh until a howl broke through the night air.

  
  


Knocking and shouting woke Andrew and he was about ready to commit murder on Christmas morning. He'd only just gone to bed and he felt like he had a hangover. He  _ did _ have a hangover. His head was killing him and he was so thirsty that he drank straight from the kitchen faucet. The knocking still hadn't let up. Andrew ignored it and went about getting dressed. Only one person was stupid enough to knock this early and this insistently and Andrew was filled with dread. He brought this upon himself. He would face the consequences of his actions.

"Andrew, I called a town meeting 15 minutes ago," came Kevin's muffled shout through the door. Andrew considered going back to bed- what did he care about responsibility. Still he opened the front door and glared up through his sunglasses at his vibrating not-friend.

"You're not the mayor," he pointed out.

"Come the fuck on, you grouchy bastard, it's Christmas. Everyone's already there."

Everyone, huh? Whatever. Andrew followed only to get Kevin to shut up and for absolutely no other reason. There was a thin, fresh dusting of snow on the ground that hadn't been there two hours ago. Great. He squinted against the brightness of it all, thankful for the sunglasses but cursing the world's Christmas cheer.

Town square looked just as Andrew had left it only brighter. The light strings were all lit up and the snow reflected too much sunshine for their dark world. The citizens were all squished into the center, buzzing with excitement. Andrew weaved his way to Aaron's black umbrella, hearing Nicky's squeal before he could see his twins head through the crowd. Katelyn and Erik were with them, huddled together with the cousins on either side. They looked positively horrified but kept their mouths' locked tight and eyes round with wonder.

Andrew could admit to himself that it did look better than it had last night. Where there had once been a Jack-o-lantern atop the tree, there was now an equally hollow head with string lights pouring from its open mouth. The silver tinsel garland was replaced with something much more slimy and red to match the peppermint candy canes. Store fronts and light posts were all equally decorated, parts of the Butcher and Lola contributing their due diligence to Halloween world’s first  _ proper _ Christmas. Andrew was partial to the shiny ornaments hanging from the fountain that was running a nice deep red.

"It's so…" Katelyn said haltingly.

"Festive?" Erik finished for her. They looked at each other and then back to the fountain. 

"Yes!" Nicky agreed, practically vibrating with glee. "Red is the  _ best _ Christmas color! Everything looks so jolly! So cheerful!"

For all that he was loud, Nicky's enthusiasm eased some of the tension out of Andrew's shoulders. It felt good for all his hard work to be appreciated.

"It is very…  _ red _ ," Katelyn agreed. Her attempts at being supportive were valiant and thin. Aaron was far too gone on her to notice the green tint to her usually rosy cheeks. Ah, Christmas citizens, always so focused on the joy of others. Maybe this holiday wasn't all that bad after all.

"Oh, Andrew!" Nicky looked over his shoulder at where Andrew had been watching them. Aaron turned as well, a flat greeting on his lips but a scowl overtaking his features in a flash.

"Those are my fucking sunglasses," he hissed, free hand shooting out to grab the sunglasses right off of Andrew's face. Andrew let him because it was true. "I've been looking for these all morning. The snow is killing me."

Andrew supposed it was only fair given Aaron's sensitivities to the sun. His own problems were temporary and self inflicted. Aaron was genetically unlucky. 

"Andrew, did you know about all this? You must have. Kevin's been hounding you about Christmas for  _ weeks _ .  _ Please _ tell me the head was your idea. It's  _ ghastly _ ."

Andrew shrugged and turned to shove his way through the mob, eyes peeled for flashes of orange hair and nose searching for the sweet smell of decaying leaves. All around, ghouls and goblins were praising the improvements on last year. An old mummy dotted her wet eyes with a piece of gauze from her forearm, sniffling, "What a nice rotten man, giving himself to the cause just like his wife."

How touching.

"Andrew."

The voice called but didn't shout. Didn't need to with Andrew's sharp ears. He turned and saw a flash of Neil's smile through the roaming bodies. They made their way towards each other and off to the side, dodging Kevin who was preening under the genuine compliments of Jeremy. They met each other near an awning at the corner of town square. Neil was practically bouncing on his toes, face open and smiling.

"Merry Christmas, Andrew," he said, holding out a small parcel. When Andrew took it, he let their hands brush. It was a lumpy package wrapped in a black cloth that had the knotting underside of a stitched image facing outward. He unraveled it carefully, letting the loose chocolates collect in one hand so that he could look at the cloth. It had a bright white moon front and center and the silhouette of a howling wolf. It was just simple enough for Andrew to make assumptions.

"Busy morning?" he asked. He didn't know what he would do with the gift as he couldn't sew it to his body but he would find a place for it somewhere.

"I dreamed about you last night, howling, and woke up inspired." Neil said. His smile was gleeful and wicked and Andrew wanted to shove his fist in it. "I wasn't dreaming, was I?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Andrew brushed off. He watched Neil look at the decorations, eyes wide and wondering and a glittering reflections of the lights

"No prisons," he said, his only indication that he had anything to do with the grisly display.

"No fair," Neil corrected. " I didn't actually get to see it happen." He reached for the cloth and chocolates. He was only pretending to take them back but Andrew found himself snatching them possessively to his chest.

"If you wanted a Christmas present you should have gone to Christmas world. I'm sure Sandy Claws would love to see you again," he said with a sarcastic snarl. When Neil reached out again, he let his hand be caught.

"Nah, too cold," he said. Andrew traced his thumb over Neil's fox, pressing harder than was really necessary but he was getting annoyed with the noise and the mindless fawning of the townspeople. He opened his mouth to suggest that they go somewhere quieter but was interrupted by an ungodly shriek.

"Mistletoe!" Nicky yelled, pointing over the heads of the crowd at Andrew and Neil. Nearly everybody ignored his antics but Nicky wasn't doing this for their attention. He was just  _ like that. _

They looked up at the shop awning and, sure enough, there was a leafy green plant fastened there with a bit of her red ribbon. Andrews lip curled back over his fangs - he thought he'd gotten rid of all of Kevin's ridiculous attempts at cheer.

"Mistletoe! It's mistletoe! You have to kiss!" Nicky was squeezing his way through the crowd, dragging the chain of the four of them closer. "Those are the rules! I read about them. It's a curse or something!"

"Isn't that… poison ivy?" Andrew's sharp ears caught Erik muttering to Katelyn. He didn't look up to check because he didn't care. Neil, however, had craned his neck back to see what Nicky was going on about and got up onto his tiptoes to try and reach it. Andrew batted his arm away with his fist closed around the chocolates.

"Don't touch that," he said mildly and Neil smiled at him.

Andrew pulled Neil by their joined hands until they were in the empty side street. They zigzagged a bit through the town so that Nicky couldn't find them. He was glad to be done with all that. He didn't need to stick around for Kevin to come bother him about  _ initiative _ . He didn't need his loud cousin or his brooding twin meddling. He didn't need anything.

Maybe a nap.

"Hey," he said quietly. Neil pulled his wandering eyes away from the halfheartedly decorated storefronts and homes. Andrew pushed his face away almost immediately, overwhelmed by the look even though he had asked for it. Neil's cheek bunched under his finger with his smile. "I'm tired."

Neil pushed his face into the prodding finger so he could land Andrew with that look again.

"Let's go home."

**Author's Note:**

> The "Body Horror" tag refers to the (off screen) dismemberment of Neil who is Sally and made of cloth and thread. He does not bleed and is okay in the end. He experiences some pain but it is not excessive. 
> 
> The "Gore" tag refers to the use of body parts as holiday decorations. The description of the scene is very brief and while the uses as decorations are described, they are not done so in great detail. 
> 
> Come find me on [ tumblr! ](https://imperfectcourt.tumblr.com/)


End file.
